


The Coral Bucket

by IncurablePeppermint



Series: Leave him, Karen [2]
Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: All of my spongebob fics have angsty tags but I promise they're real and not weird trollfics, Divorce (mentioned), Gen, Plotting, Post-Divorce, Restaurants, Sandy Cheeks (Minor), Sandy Cheeks/Karen (Mentioned), Scheming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-04-12 13:46:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19133251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurablePeppermint/pseuds/IncurablePeppermint
Summary: Part two in a series, reading Bad Programming first is recommended, but probs not necessary.Plankton is left with an apology formula and an empty dock where his wife used to charge. Despite everyone else's best intentions, he can't picture himself doing anything but hunting for the Krabby Patty formula.





	1. Recipes

“Oh, what? Stealing my wife wasn’t enough and now you’re here to chew through my wiring as well? Go away!” 

Plankton snarls into the microphone of his security system. He presses a button to make a large, threatening set of hands and a single metal spyglass-eyeball pop out of the side of the chum bucket. All three of these new household appengages hone in on Sandy Cheeks, who aside from an initial startled flinch, is unbothered. “Look I know you’re mad at me... Understandably. But I have somethin’ for ya’ I think you could use. And then I want ya’ out of my fur.” 

“What could you possibly have that I would need? I can out-invent you and I can see Karen isn’t hiding behind your back.”

He sees her mumble something, but can’t pick it up even with his advanced security system. Which is less actually significantly advanced than usual without Karen’s processors helping it along. Darn that squirrel and her homewrecking. 

“You can forget that! But I brought you this.” Sandy holds up a packet of papers. The sides of it are threatening to fold inwards, like it’s been rolled up for awhile. He sends one of the robotic hands to snatch it from her. 

“The secret Krabby Patty formula? Oh you shouldn’t have! I mean you definitely should have, someone had to.” He starts reading the first page through the spyglass. “I mean, you can keep Karen, honestly. I could buy a thousand computer wives with the money I’ll make from this, the updated models too.” He furrows his brow, “Wait, wait. This isn’t the recipe for Krabby Patties.”

“No, it’s for uh... A bunch of coral foods. I thought you could use an actual product instead of chum formed into balls.”

“That’s... Ridiculous! What am I supposed to do with this?” 

He grunts as he struggles with the multi-celled organism sized controls to throw the packet back into Sandy’s face. It hits her helmet and ineffectively slides to the ground. She stares off for a moment, annoyed, then just shrugs. 

“Alright, Plankton. But this is all you’re gettin’ outta me or Karen, we  _ both _ have a date tonight.”

She walks off and Plankton presses the button to retract the security system arms and eye. “Just some random recipe book. And it’s not even a real book, it’s just some printouts!” Plankton walks out of the Chum Bucket and over to the packet that Sandy left behind. He flips through it, trying not to admit that a switch away from chum has been on his mind for awhile. It was just a cheap way to bide his time until he got the formula at first, but now it’s become a cheap way to waste his time and money as he keeps failing. 

“I suppose the squirrel  _ is _ some kind of scientist,” he mutters as he takes in the rather impressive automation blueprints. “And coral isn’t exactly busting the bank.... Perhaps if... No, that would prove her  _ right _ !” He groans and kicks the large packet, then yells and stomps on the ground when his kick proves totally ineffectual. 

“Hiya Plankton! What’re you up to,” calls a familiar, grating voice. Perfect. That little yellow idiot is here now to top it all off.

“Nothing, Spongebob. I’m taking out this  _ garbage _ .”

Spongebob picks up the packet and starts looking it over. “Oh wow, Plankton. Are you switching to coral? Kar-... A friend told me that coral burgers are really popular in New Kelp City right now. That’s such a smart move! Do you need any help?”

“Do I need any help? I _ just _ told you that this is  _ garbage _ you couch cushion shaped clod!” Plankton stops himself, realizing the opportunity in front of him. Spongebob might be on guard around him when it comes to the formula _ now _ , but if he could pull a long con... If he could convince Spongebob that he really has decided to just change his business plan, then he could get close to that sweet, sweet formula without it seeming suspicious. “I mean... Yes! Of course, I’d love help from a friend like you, Spongebob.”

Spongebob is flipping quickly through the papers. “Yeah? I don’t really understand these blueprints or anything, but I’m a top notch fry cook! I can definitely help you get your recipe in order... Oh! Or go shopping for supplies with you! Mr. Krabs borrows my Sunken Treasure membership card to order ingredients, I don’t see why I couldn’t share with you too!” He giggles and offers the packet back to Plankton, who reluctantly takes it.

“That sounds... Nice,” he says through gritted teeth. Plankton isn’t particularly looking forward to spending a ton of time with Spongebob or to going through with the  _ plans _ that Sandy left on his doorstep. But it will all be worth it when he has the Krabby Patty formula and Mr. Krabs is crying at his tiny green feet.

“Alright! I think I’m off tomorrow if you want to meet up? I don’t have my boating license yet so I usually take the bus to Sunken Treasure... Bu-ut! I have some really nice shopping totes that are really easy to carry so-”

“I’ll just pick you up at your banana house.”

“Pineapple house.”

“Whatever.”


	2. Shopping List

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spongebob and Plankton go shopping at Sunken Treasure™. Plankton gets mistaken for a mean baby.

Plankton goes over a short mental checklist as he drives up to Spongebob’s disgusting produce home (it must be  _ fermented  _ by now, right?). He took spot for a walk. He locked up the Chum Bucket. He sent off his electricity payment. It’s been annoying since Karen left, she used to handle so many day to day tasks that are now all  _ his _ responsibility. And honestly, are mostly things he never even thought about. He can't even  _ see _ half of the shelves that need dusting, much less reach them. He could really easily order a new computer wife (he’s done it before) but something is holding him back. 

Plankton honks impatiently the moment he stops in front of Spongebob’s sidewalk. Spongebob, unfazed, skips out of his door with jellyfish print reusable shopping bags in tow. He's wearing his ridiculous, thick-framed glasses and an unfaltering grin. “Hiya Plankton! Oh, I’m so excited to go shopping with you,” he calls out as he runs up to Plankton’s boatmobile. Plankton sighs, already irritated by Spongebob’s cheery attitude. 

“Let’s just get this over with Spongeboob.”

“You’re anxious to get everything ready for your new recipes? I understand that!” Spongebob whips out a large, handwritten shopping list. There are doodles of Plankton cooking burgers and his slimy copepod pet in a Krusty Krab uniform lining the actual text. “So we need coral, of course,” he giggles as if that was a joke. “And then we need... Bulk spices, kelp extract, seaweed sauce...” Plankton cuts him off by stretching an arm over and placing it on his lips with a shush. 

“How about we just wait until we get there to think about the shopping list, okay?” 

Spongebob nods and Plankton pulls his hand away. 

“Of course! Wouldn’t want to get confused or anything!”

The rest of the ride to Sunken Treasure is  _ mostly _ uneventful. Plankton has to keep switching the station on the radio when Spongebob finds something he can sing along to (and then apparently decides each time that screaming the lyrics is a better option, the yellow idiot cannot be  _ that _ tone deaf). But as theyl step up to the door a greeter halts the two of them by holding one fin out and using the other to point to a sign with a picture of a little boy standing on his tiptoes to try to reach an arrow.

“Whoa there. You’ve gotta keep your baby in one of our carrier carts once you’re in the store. What if he gets hurt or damages consumer goods?” 

“Baby? I am a full grown adult man! I went to college!”

“Well, you’re still too small to walk around the store and will need to be strapped into a carrier cart.”

“This is ridiculous. Spongebob, we’re leaving.”

Spongebob picks him up, letting Plankton stand on his palm. “Well, I dunno Plankton. We did already drive all the way out here. Shouldn’t we go ahead and get your shopping done?” He leans in closer and whispers, “Besides, I don’t know of any other bulk stores that sell the right fry cook gear.”

Plankton groans, but relents nonetheless. “Fine! Strap me into the humiliation device.”

“That’s the spirit, Plankton!”

Spongebob hooks him up into a child seat attached to an elongated telescope cart. Plankton scoots over a little in the seat to further himself from a mysterious orange stain. Spongebob hands him the list, which Plankton can now see has been organized by aisle, and shoves off towards consumerist bliss. He hums as he pushes the cart along and picks out items. While Plankton still crosses things off as they shop, it’s apparent to him that Spongebob didn’t actually need to take the list with him.

They're eventually interrupted on their supply trip by a surfer bro who recognizes Spongebob and runs over to them with a wave.

“Hey there, little square dude!”

“Oh, hi Scooter!”

“What a totally  _ angry _ baby ya got there, you finally settle in with that squid?”

Spongebob laughs and gives the purple fish a playfully dismissive wave, “Oh I wish, but he hasn’t popped the question yet.”

“Good luck on that. See ya later, dude.” 

After Scooter has walked away Plankton looks up at Spongebob questioningly, “You’re dating your coworker? I didn’t think Krabs would allow that.”

“Oh, I’m not dating Squidward. I just hope he’ll ask me anyway.” 

Plankton opens his mouth to protest this ridiculous dream, then just shakes his head. “Whatever blows your bubbles, kid.” He turns back to their list and taps the end of his pen on it, “We’ve only got dried kelp to grab and then we’re out of here.”

“That's one aisle over, shelf three!"

"Hey, Sponge?"

Spongebob turns the corner on the aisle and hoists the oversized box of foodstuff into the cart before he answers, "What is it, Plankton?"

"Why do you have this place memorized? Doesn't seem like you'd need to be here very often for personal shopping. Unless you just happen go through a lot of industrial grade cheesecloth."

"Oh! Well, remember when I said Mr. Krabs borrows my card? I actually meant that he sends me here to shop  _ for _ him for Krusty Krab supplies. He'd rather be counting his money than seeing it spent. That's what he always tells me."

Plankton actually gets a little chuckle out of that. "Of course. He's attached to his wallet by the hip."

"Actually he keeps it in his back pocket."

"It's just a saying, I didn't mean that literally."

"He says it's safer when he sits that way."

"Thank you, Spongebob."

 


	3. Menus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spongebob, Plankton, and Squidward discuss decor and try out the first iteration of their coral burger.

Plankton carefully steps around a snail-shaped novelty vegetable peeler only to trip over the metal neck of a two-headed spatula. He takes a moment to just lay there, face down, accepting defeat. Then he stands back up, glares at his square, yellow guest, and rubs the side of his head. "Spongebob, I don't understand why you brought over all of these weird cooking doo-hickeys. I already had all of the necessary fry cooking supplies. Spatula, grill, bucket, and so on."

"Well, you're using new ingredients, you need new supplies." Spongebob sets a well-used grinder up on one of Plankton's many steel countertops and gives it a playful little crank. " _ This _ is for your coral burgers!"

"I'm making on giant machines for that. There’s literally a half finished device _ behind you _ . Besides, don’t you think I'm a bit  _ small _ to operate your hand cranked garbage?"

"Well, I wasn't going to point out the size issue... But these are for me! You have to try out these recipes before you start selling them to customers! They’re important, they deserve the best! So I’m helping with the testing...  _ And _ Squidward said he'd come over and help too!"

"Help with what? The decor?" Plankton laughs. 

Spongebob nods eagerly, then dumps a handful of coral into the grinder. "How did you guess?" 

Plankton groans. The last thing he wants to do is update his decor. It's costly, annoying, and a waste of time. By the time he changes everything out for a current, popular motif the trends will have changed. "Listen, how about you," Plankton starts, before being drowned out as Spongebob starts grinding the coral. It makes a terrible noise, like a protozoan being crushed underfoot. Plankton shudders upon initially hearing it.

"What?" Spongebob innocently asks.

"I said, tell Squidward to-!"

"What?"

"Inform your co-worker that his presence is unnec-!" 

"There are presents?"

Plankton breathes in deep, then at the very top of his lungs yells, "Tell Squidward he can shove his decorative expertise up-!" Before Plankton can finish his sentence, Spongebob stops grinding and slams his hand over Plankton's mouth. 

"Hold that thought! I hear Squidward's bicycle outside!" Spongebob giggles excitedly and runs off before Plankton can finish voicing his demands. Plankton rubs his temples in frustration. The Chum Bucket looks fine and doesn’t need that pretentious cashier mucking it up. 

“It looks worse in here than I remembered,” Squidward drones as soon as he walks into the kitchen. “The lighting is so oppressive. And the air leaves an  _ unfortunate _ hint of iron lingering on your palette.” He smacks his tongue audibly on the roof of his mouth. “This won’t do at all.” He rubs his chin with one tentacle, apparently thinking really hard about how metal everything is and how drab that is. Plankton scoffs.

Spongebob quickly gets back to his work, starting to mix spices into the ground coral. Plankton runs up to Squidward and leaps to perch on his nose. He gives Squidward a firm poke between the eyes. “Listen here, cephalopod. I’m uninterested in your ornamentation recommendations!” He pokes a few more times, “And I’ve no time for my help making goo-goo eyes at you.”

Squidward backs up with his hands in front of him at first. Then, once he processes the fact that Plankton doesn’t really pose a threat, he scoffs and picks up Plankton by the antennae. “Listen, I don’t often get the chance to show off my decorating skills, and you don’t have any employees without Karen. So how about we strike a deal, squirt?”

“I refuse!” Plankton squirms and thrashes in Squidwards grasp.

Squidward holds him out further away for safety. He pauses for a moment before a devious expression overtakes his face. “Oh? You  _ don’t  _ want to make Old Man Krabs mad because  _ his employees _ are willing to work for  _ you _ for _ free _ ? I thought that would be right up your alley.”

Plankton opens his mouth to protest, then taps his chin. “You really think allowing you to put in some terrible wallpaper will make Krabs mad?”

“Tasteful wallpaper.”

“Whatever.”

“I mean, if I was as close to my money as Krabs is and I saw my employees doing their jobs for free elsewhere...”

Plankton holds out a tiny hand for a shake, “Alright, you can stay. But I’m giving you a budget that you are not to go a  _ penny _ over. I’m aware of your  _ Fancy Living _ subscription and I’m not spending three thousand dollars on a reclaimed anchor lounge chair.”

Squidward smiles smugly and shakes Plankton’s tiny hand before setting him down on one of the kitchen counters. “Agreed.”

Plankton adjusts his antennae, checking them for damage. “And no more man-handling me! I’m not getting any younger, these things are starting to go limp.”

“The less I touch you the better.”

“Good! Then you won’t mind avoiding trampling me when I invade your place of business-... What is that smell?”

Plankton and Squidward both sniff the air, which is filled with a strong but not unpleasant odor. Salty, savory, just the slightest bit greasy. They exchange quizzical glances before turning to watch Spongebob as he, humming to himself, brings over two plates and a spoon, each topped with a coral burger (The one on the spoon conveniently sized down for Plankton’s consumption). 

“This isn’t going to just taste like a Krabby Patty, is it Spongebob? You know how I feel about Krabby Patties,” Squidward asks once he’s received his plate. He checks under the bun and gives it an up close sniff, presenting himself as some kind of a connoisseur despite being a cashier at a greasy spoon. 

Spongebob giggles. “Of course not, I couldn’t copy Mr. Krabs recipes, that would be mutiny!  This is Plankton’s own recipe, with a few changes I thought needed to be made. And lots of love!” He picks up his own burger with pinkies lifted high in the air, apparently having dubbed the dish  _ ‘fancy’  _ despite it being a reconstituted grease sponge. And despite his raised pinky fingers, he shoves the whole thing into his mouth at once and chews messily. 

Plankton picks up his own tiny burger and looks it over for a moment. Despite Spongebob audibly expressing how edible the food is (through his full mouth), Plankton is having a hard time convincing himself to give it a try. He’s just too used to everything coming out of his kitchen resulting in week-long bathroom vacations or melted holes in his metal floorboards. It’s not just unsavory it’s _ unsafe _ . He takes a deep breath before taking a bite.

And chewing. And swallowing. It’s edible. In fact, it’s pretty darn good. Even if the squirrel sent the recipe over. “This isn’t half bad, Spongebob,” he admits before stuffing his face with another bite. 

Squidward finally dares a taste and offers a pleased nod. “Not nearly as _ greasy _ as Krab’s stuff.” 

“Well, it’s actually pretty greasy still... It’s just that the coral soaks it up really well.” 

Squidward looks the rest of his burger over skeptically, then shrugs and tosses it into his open maw. Once he’s swallowed, he says, “As long as I’m not risking grease stains, I  _ suppose _ I can eat it.” He leans against one of the counters, trying to look composed by knocking aside Spongebob’s snail-shaped vegetable peeler. He taps his foot on the floor for a moment, then asks, “Do you... Do you think you could make another one? To taste test, of course.” 


	4. Patent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are going smoothly at the Chum Bucket, for once. Plankton isn't used to things being calm, looking up, or ending well.

"What did I say about reclaimed furniture, cephalopod," Plankton demands as he rushes up to Squidward, who is staining a ship-wood bench by tentacle behind the Chum bucket. Squidward rolls his eyes and wipes sweat off his brow.

"You said not to spend thousands of dollars on it."

"And how much did this cost?"

"A trip to the dump and the hardware store." "Exactly, now-... What?"

"I made it, Plankton. I'm a master at so many other kinds of artistry... I figured it was time I take up woodcrafting as well. I shouldn't deny the world _any_ my numerous talents."

Plankton looks the bench over, genuinely impressed. A rustic figurehead in the rough shape of a mermaid princess makes up one arm of the bench. The rest of the wood has scales carved into it, clearly by a different artist and much more recently but still mimicking those on the mermaid's tail. Hidden amongst the scales on the backrest and the legs are tiny but ornate carvings of mermaids, bubbles, and gemstones. It's legitimately beautiful. For a bench, at least.

"You know Squidward, you really have a talent for this stuff." Squidward lights up at the compliment. Plankton catches sight of a 'signature' etched into the leg. Which is really just an uncomfortably sensual bust carving of Squidward. "When you don't sully everything with hideous depictions of yourself, I mean." Squidward darkens, then gets back to work. Plankton hears him muttering under his breath, but doesn't pay it any mind.

Plankton walks off, tapping his chin. This coral business really could work out. Metal against wood. Grease soaked coral burgers. Drooling customers. The cash to finish that second master's degree.

Maybe he could take a break from scheming. His current plan requires Spongebob's trust anyway. Karen always did say that trust was something earned over time. Disgusting. But a break does sound nice. Plankton is getting a _little_ too old to be constantly crushed under Krabs's boots. He's going to end up bedridden like his dear old grand pappy Sheldon Senior after his very last rodeo. Poor pappy never saw the clown coming.

Back in the kitchen Spongebob is humming a tune while emptying out coral and spice mix into the Coral Corralling Patty Press-o-matic (patent pending). Finished patties slide off of a conveyor into a cardboard box, separated automatically by slices of circle cut parchment paper slid in ever so gently by a gloved robotic hand. It's an almost entirely automated process, but Plankton knows he'll have to hire some fool to man the grill when the time comes. Or just make another robot.

Fish are easier to fire, though. And they don't call you their creator, father, husband, or 'a tiny little pain in the circuit board'. Perhaps Plankton should work on programming a better gratefulness protocol before he cobbles together any more A.I.

"Heya, Plankton! This is the last box of patties for the freezer, then I can start prepping the coral bits. Ooh, isn't this exciting?"

"It's something. Were you aware that your coworker is hand carving the furniture?"

"Oh, yeah! He's so talented, isn't he? I called in a favor from ol' Dutchie for some more wood. He's hunting around for abandoned shipwrecks as we speak!" Spongebob giggles, barely able to contain his excitement.

"Dutchie... Like the _Flying Dutchman_? The ghost? Haunts the seas?"

"Yeah! Do you two know each other?"

"No."

Plankton rubs his temples and sighs. Of course Spongebob knows, and is apparently on good terms with, the actual Flying Dutchman. That might as well be the case. For just a moment, Plankton longs for a time before Spongebob came to town, when things made a bit more sense, but he shakes it off quickly. He's getting tired of thinking about how things used to be. When he and Krabs were friends. When he and Karen were married. When things were simple. Things are finally looking up, he doesn't need a nagging computer wife or a salty old pirate.

All of Spongebob's test recipes have been deliciously marketable. Squidward's designs have been, somehow, reigned in. His restaurant isn't covered in wallpaper accented with Squidward's face or chemical damage from bad batches of chum. Spongebob even convinced Squidward to decorate Plankton's sleeping quarters so they wouldn't be so "oppressive" and "metallic."

And Spongebob had a point. The soft crushed-velvet lining his shoebox sized bedroom really makes him feel... Cozy. They replaced his metal board with a doll bed. The decorative seashell night light plugged into the ceiling makes for a welcoming centerpiece. He sleeps soundly at night. Everything feels very fresh.

Plankton would be the first to admit that his thirst for revenge and power is still present. Of course he wants Krabs to suffer and beg. And yes, he'd love to see the whole ocean trembling under his oppressive rule. _But_... He really is ready for a break.

Barnacles, though. He can't stand the idea of Krabs thinking he's really given up. That penny-pinching oaf would take it as a victory! And Plankton refuses to lose the war after being forced to concede so many battles. Plankton is debating the idea of, Neptune forbid, asking _Spongebob_ for advice, when Squidward wanders into the kitchen. He absolutely reeks of wood-stain at this point and if Plankton didn't know it would be fruitless, he'd complain.

"You know, Plankton, you might have a real business on your... Stubs."

"What are you talking about? Of course I do. Did you breathe in too many fumes out there?"

"I'm just wondering how you're going to mess it up."

"Excuse me," Plankton demands, glaring up at him.

"Well, this is all part of some scheme, right?" Squidward nonchalantly crosses his arms, waving one tentacle around at the wrist for some sort of emphasis. "All this. The coral. The machines. The decor. You're going to use this to go after Krabs, a Krabby Patty, or the formula."

Plankton huffs. "If you think that's the case, why are you helping?"

"I want to design a restaurant dining room. Also I absolutely do not care if you steal the formula. I work there to pay for rent and oil paint."

"Fair enough. But it's not a scheme."

"If you say so." Squidward pauses for a moment, then laughs. "You know, if you let this coral thing ride out long enough to make a sale, it'll drive old man Krabs up the wall. I can't wait to see it."

Plankton perks up at that comment. "You think so?"

"Oh yeah, Krabs _loathes_ competition. He's still bitter about the Barg'N-Mart selling groceries. Whines that people don't just eat Krabby Patties for every meal."

Plankton grins, wide and devious. He knows exactly what his next scheme is. Beating Krabs at his own game. Fair and square. Krabs will never live it down.

"Good to know."


	5. Canvas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plankton gets his portrait painted to hang on the Coral Bucket's wall.

Plankton sits on a stool that’s much too large for him in the middle of the not-yet-completely furnished dining area of The Coral Bucket. He’s usually not particularly attentive, but he’s pretty sure he’s managed to figure something out. In fact, he’s absolutely sure that the way Squidward decorated his restaurant is how he wanted to decorate the Krusty Krab. And that either he’s never had the backbone to submit his ideas to Krabs or Krabs has turned all of Squidward’s design advice down.

Krabs’s loss. The reclaimed ship wood, the knot-work accents, and the antique sail (keeping the soda machines out of view) honestly make the place look classy. Plankton might’ve been too hard on the cephalopod when Spongebob brought him on to help. Not that he plans on admitting that to Squidward. 

“And this isn’t going to be one of your abstract paintings, right?”

“If you ask me again? Yes.”

Squidward stands a few feet away from Plankton on a white tarp in front of an easel and canvas. A pop-up table with an array of paint tubes sits beside him. He switches between painting, tapping the brush on his chin, and squinting over at Plankton every now and then. According to Squidward, Plankton needs to make himself more approachable. And the best way to do that is a small art piece of himself to hang up.

Plankton is almost certain that Squidward is wrong about the power of paintings, but he’ll humor him for  _ now _ . Plankton has been feeling a lot more amicable in the last few weeks. Perhaps it’s because he’s not stressing himself out plotting against Krabs. Or because he’s not being repeatedly stomped on by angry Krusty Crew members. Or because his residence is no longer so utilitarian and oppressive. Or because Karen isn’t nagging him to death (he should’ve known better than to run “Reasonable_Expectations.exe”, that’s when their relationship went South).

But no matter  _ why _ Plankton has felt better lately, he definitely  _ has _ been feeling better. And he knows that Krabs has been feeling much, much worse _. _ Plankton feels a sense of undiluted euphoria rush through his tiny body when he spots the old cheapskate glaring at him from across the street. He’s winning without even having to try.

And even if he had never spotted Krabs shooting daggers at him, Krabs’s employees have made it clear that Plankton doing anything other than hunting for the recipe is driving Krabs nutty. Spongebob is always fretting about Krabs, like he’s a parent headed for Shady Shoals. Spongebob is worried that Eugene doesn't have enough hobbies without thwarting Plankton. He mentioned that Krabs has been taking his knitting to work for something to keep himself occupied. Squidward, on the other fin, is just more than happy to see someone getting under his employer's shell. Which, despite Squidward’s hostile nature, somewhat confounds Plankton.

"I've been meaning to ask you something, Squidward."

"I'm not painting you taller, with more muscles, or with a strong jawline. If I do that,  _ everyone _ will know you’re an egomaniac."

"We’ll discuss that later.”

“Mm.”

“But what I was wondering was... Well, I was under the impression that you were somewhat of a Krabs family friend. You’ve been babysitting his daughter for years, haven't you?"

"Pearl? Since she was born."

"It just seems strange you’d be so happy about Krabs losing it.” 

"Listen, Plankton. I've known Krabs for more than a decade. We’re... Close _ -ish _ . But he needs to be taken down a peg."

"You think so?"

"He thinks that because he's  _ financially _ successful that he's always right. He won't hear me out... Or Spongebob out, even though that yellow headache is, according to Krabs himself, the best employee he’s ever seen."

"So you some real competition will make him more open to your ideas?"

"Oh, no. He's a stubborn skinflint and he's just going to drive himself crazy trying to figure out what your evil plan is.”

“There is no plan.”

“If you say so,  _ sure _ . I don’t care either way. But he’s _ never _ going to believe that. What I want is for him to focus so much on  _ you _ that his  _ wallet _ suffers. That’s the only way he’ll learn.” Squidward paints a stroke on the canvas with finality. “You’re free to go for now, this needs to dry before I can keep painting.” Plankton lets out a breath in relief and relaxes. Then he stands and does some stretches.

“Thank Neptune, I thought my antennae were going to get stuck in place.”

Squidward offers only a dismissive snort before starting to put his supplies away. The kitchen door opens and his new employee, a goth teen, steps out. She crosses her fins at them. “Are you two  _ done _ in here? I’m having a problem with your coral machines. I can feel the grease  _ emanating _ from them. It’s heinous.”

Plankton hops down from his stool and walks over to her. He doesn’t understand why she bothered applying for a fast food job since she’s been complaining about the grease the whole time. Fast food is  _ all  _ grease. It’s not like this is a sea-berry-smoothie stand. He liked having her around because her rebellious teen style reminds him of his rock n’ roll days, but it seems like it’s time to cut her loose. Maybe he’ll replace her with a robot chef.

“Listen, Novella-”

“ _ Nocturna _ .”

“Nocturna. There’s going to be grease in the kitchen. It’s just a hazard of the job.”

“I don’t want to get pimples. I’ll look like Nosferatu.”

“Well, you’re going to get them if you work here. I can always look at the other applicants if you-”

Squidward steps in front of Plankton and hands Nocturna a sample-size bottle, produced from his supply bag. “Here. Keep your hair pulled back at work, use this to wash your face  _ immediately _ after you get home. You and your pores are welcome.” Nocturna looks between the bottle and Squidward a couple of times before nodding.

“Dr. Kelpster’s Face Buster. Tight.”

With that, she disappears back into the kitchen. Squidward wordlessly goes back to cleaning up his art supplies. Plankton follows after him and takes a peek at the unfinished painting. The background is a simple skyscape to keep the focus on him. Outside of some shading and little details, it’s finished and, as much as Plankton hates to admit it, decent. 

“You have a soft spot for acne-prone teens?”

“I have a soft spot for miserable artists stuck in dead-end fast food jobs. She’s at Bikini Bottom Revue’s open mic night a lot to do slam poetry.  _ Derivative _ slam poetry, but she’s just a teenager. She has time to refine her work.” He adds under his breath, “ _ Neptune knows she’ll need it _ .”

“I wouldn’t call a teenager flipping patties stuck in a dead-end job.”

“Yeah well, ten years ago I was a teenager running the cash register.”

“Touche.” 

“What do you think of your portrait so far?”

Plankton tosses possible responses around in his tiny little head while he stares up at the canvas, hand on his chin. It really  _ isn’t _ a bad painting.

“I might actually hang it up. You captured my good side.”


	6. Sky Writing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Squidward and Plankton celebrate the opening of the Coral Bucket.

"Sky-writer. Classy," Squidward snorts as he gazes up, one hand on his hip and the other held up to shoulder level to give Plankton a better look at the crowd. "You also hire hula dancers and a clown?" He laughs heartily and nasally. Plankton is so used to hearing him it's  _ almost _ not annoying.

"Hardee har har, Squidward. But I only hired the sky writer because I wanted to be certain Krabs wouldn't miss this." He motions to the line-up of customers stretched out the door and down the street from his perch on Squidward's tentacle, a nasty grin planted on his face. Everything according to plan. Everything as it should be. Everything  _ working.  _ A little embarrassed, he adds quickly and much more quietly, “And I had a coupon.”

"Yeah. It really is impressive how desperate these bottom feeders are to avoid cooking for themselves," Squidward says dismissively. He leans against the side of the Coral Bucket, surprisingly careful not to jostle Plankton. "But I gotta hand it to you, The Krusty Krab hasn't seen numbers like this in months. Eugene will be steamed."

"I was hoping for boiled and served with a side of butter, but I'll take it." 

Speak of the Dutchman and he appears, Plankton's Grand-Mee-maw used to say. Mr. Krabs rounds the street corner, looking just as steamed as Squidward predicted. He pinches his claws repeatedly in a clearly failing attempt to calm himself down. "Plankton! What's the meanin' of this,” he demands, motioning to the crowd.

"Krabs! I wasn't expecting you." Eugene points at the sky with a growl. The clouds read,  _ "Coral Bucket Grand Opening. Eugene Krabs eat my barnacles.”  _ Plankton shrugs and chuckles. He turns back to face Krabs, practically giddy. "Fair point."

"Explain!"

"I've been renovating for  _ weeks _ . Didn't you see the tarp?"

"I figured they were finally tryin' ta fumirgate ya outta town."

"Well, Eugene, for your information _ your  _ employees were helping _ me _ make a new and improved restaurant with a brand new menu."

Krabs gasps, as overdramatic as ever. "Mr.  _ Squidward _ , is this true?" Squidward nods, a haughty grin plastered on his face. He seems to be enjoying this almost as much as Plankton.

"'Fraid so, Eugene. And I did it _ free of charge _ ."

"You worked for  _ free _ ? For me arch nemesis?”

“Sure did. And so did Spongebob.”

“Spongebob would do a favor for a sea-termite that was eatin’ at his own scaffoldin’.  _ You _ don’t do favors fer anyone. This is mutiny, Mr. Squidward.”

Squidward motions to the doors. “Well, Eugene, Plankton was willing to listen to my design advice. And because of that he has a line of idiots from here to Rock Bottom.” Plankton is certain that the new menu is what has people lined up, but he’s not about to correct Squidward while he’s absolutely _ giving it _ to Krabs. It’s too juicy a scene to disrupt.

“I don’t care if he let you design his bedroom-”

“He did. It’s quite _ tasteful. _ ”

“Well, I still don’t care! I think yer workin’ for him to spite me and I won’t stand fer it.”

“What are you going to do, fire me?”

“Maybe I will!”

Plankton grins, seeing his opportunity to cut in. “Whatever Krabs pays you, I’ll give you a dollar an hour raise to work for me.”

At the same time, but with very different tones, Squidward and Krabs ask him, “Really?”

“ _ Really _ . I could use a living cashier. The robot I made scares the senior crowd anyway, so I can just scrap him for parts.”

“A _ dollar _ raise? I can’t compete with that, me wallet can’t handle it.”

“You could but you won’t, Eugene,” Squidward corrects with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll hear you out if you have anything else to offer, but right now I’m really liking the sound of becoming a Coral Bucket Employee. Especially since I’ll be far away from Spongebob’s awful patty flipping songs.”

Krabs clenches his claws, then crosses them in front of his chest. “What about yer loyalty to the Krusty Krab? To  _ me _ ?”

Squidward snorts, “Loyalty doesn’t keep me in exotic cheeses.”

“But Mr. Squidward, this  _ ‘restaurant _ ’ of Plankton’s will just go belly up. His food tastes like barnacle scrapings and he’s always on some haywire scheme.” Mr. Krabs laughs, but his eyes are nervous. “Yer just gonna end up out of the job and crawlin’ back ta me.”

Squidward growls in frustration before taking a calming breath. “Alright. Okay. You don’t have to fire me Mr. Krabs.”

“Glad ye see it my way Mr. Squidward.”

“Because I quit.”

“You what?”

“I quit. I resign. I’m taking my final bow as cashier at your grease slinging establishment. Tell Spongebob I’ll see him at the twenty year reunion and _ no sooner _ .”

“Alright, Alright. Sayin’ ya’d  _ crawl _ back may have been a  _ bit _ too far but-”

Plankton interrupts him before he can keep trying to convince his ex-cashier back into the job. “Listen Krabs, you can drag yourself to the back of the line if you want to place an order. Otherwise,  _ scram _ before I report you for loitering.” Mr. Krabs opens his mouth to protest, then spots a few in-uniform police officers waiting in line. He settles for a glare before scuttling off towards the Krusty Krab, muttering under his breath about how avoiding fines.

“Plankton?”

“Don’t worry, cephalopod. I really did mean I’d hire you on. And I’ll even give you that raise. With what Krabs pays you’re still barely getting a wage.”

“No, no. I mean, I do need that job. But,” he pauses before taking a moment to swallow his pride. “Thank you. For standing up for me. I know you did that to shove it in Eugene’s face, but I still appreciate it.”

Plankton feels something stir in his stomach. Maybe it’s just that he ate a test batch of Coral tots for breakfast. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it.”

“As long as you don’t mention that I thanked you for it.”

“Deal.”


End file.
